BIRTH-DAY
.
Shall
this
Day
unheeded
fly
,
And
like
vulgar
days
pass
by
?
Dull
as
—
tho'
I
be
,
Shall
it
pass
unsung
by
Me
?
No
,
when
I
this
Day
forget
,
May
I
share
that
Poet's
fate
!
Singing
what
is
daily
said
,
Rhyming
what
is
never
read
.
Now
for
Blessings
,
such
as
ease
,
Health
and
joy
,
long
life
and
peace
.
Pray
we
next
—
for
Poets
may
Sure
,
as
well
as
Prose-Folks
,
pray
—
And
as
this
Day
rolls
around
,
May
you
still
be
perfect
found
:
Still
,
in
Virtue's
noble
race
,
Pressing
for
the
foremost
place
;
Scorning
all
that's
low
,
or
lewd
,
Daring
to
be
great
and
good
:
Till
your
race
of
life
is
done
,
And
the
glorious
meed
your
own
;
Such
as
Angels
now
receive
,
Such
as
Heav'n
alone
can
give
.